Under a copper sun with see through tan
Emma puts words to music.
Donna hangs loose with lunchbox breasts,
Jayne is Jayne and quiet.
With silent figure and bloodied tongue
Emma sings to strangers,
Donna pecks with a cigarette beak,
Jayne is Jayne and quiet.
On a cardboard lake dried by summer
Emma draws fish in the mud,
Donna follows the razor children
Jayne is Jayne and quiet.
Dressed as Death in a flower skirt
Emma has a scalded attraction,
Donna scratches her name on walls
Jayne is Jayne and quiet.
In an opium forest playing hide and seek
Emma would grow with the poppy,
Donna would shine like a neon sign
Jayne would be Jayne and quiet...
@Steven Francis poems 1996
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